ENTER Hermione
by flibbertigibbet squidge
Summary: We all know how Harry found his way to Hogwarts, but what about Hermione, who found herself in a similar situation? Here's the answer - Hermione's discovery of the wizarding world and her journey to become a part of it.
1. Letters and Taxis

And here you have, the result of an idea that popped into my head a long time ago. I thought, "Harry had help when he was starting school – Hagrid came and found him. But what about all the other Muggle-born children? What do they have to do?" So I decided to answer it myself, using Hermione, the prime example.

Rating: G

Disclaimer: Anything that belongs to J.K. Rowling is not mine. That sentence makes way too much sense.

ATTENTION: I had to make up several things in this story, including the Muggle school, Mr. And Mrs. Granger's first names, etc. I hope you don't mind.

==

"Could you tell me what room Dr. Granger is in?" Hermione twisted a strand of her curly hair impatiently, scowling.

"Which one, dear?" The secretary, subbing in for Mrs. Peroccio obviously didn't know who Hermione was. Hermione hoped that the young woman didn't think that Hermione was angry with her.

"Either one, it doesn't matter," Hermione sighed.

"Er, alright, Dr. Phillip Granger is in Room 103." Said the secretary, somewhat puzzled. Nodding, Hermione started off down the hallway.

"Thank you," she called over her shoulder indifferently, having remembered her manners. She walked, or rather stomped, down the narrow corridor. One hand clenched an envelope, the seal broken. Hermione glanced down at it and only narrowly avoided walking into a wall as her eyes filled with angry tears. She wiped them away furiously with her free hand, and turned a corner to face a door with a simple black "103" printed on the wood. She listened for a moment, and after hearing voices behind the door, knocked twice. The door opened and a tall man in scrubs and a doctor's mask stood before Hermione. His eyes looked at her incredulously from behind thick eyeglasses.

"Daddy?" Hermione said quietly, more of a confirmation than a question. Normally she would have been formal, calling him 'Father,' but she was so overwhelmed that the scared little 11-year-old behind all the maturity showed herself.

"Hermione!" came his voice from behind the plastic mask. "What are you doing here?"

"I… I have to talk to you," said Hermione, her voice wavering as tears threatened to spill again. Behind Dr. Granger was a nurse, standing by a teenage boy in the dentist's chair, prevented from moving by a large machine of some sort connected to his mouth. The nurse approached the door.

"Doctor, I can continue if you need a few minutes," offered the nurse. Phillip nodded and pulled down his mask to his neck. Then he turned to the boy.

"Michael, Nurse Emily is going to finish up and then your parents will come to take you home." The boy nodded as much as he was able, and Dr. Granger stepped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Noticing Hermione's tearstained face, his puzzled look changed to one of sympathy.

"Honey, what's wrong?" He asked. Silently, Hermione handed the envelope to her father. He withdrew a paper from it.

"Dear applicant," he read, "we at Kensington Academy must regret to inform you that…" he trailed off, reading silently. "Oh dear."

"I didn't get in," Hermione summarized the lengthy letter with four simple words.

==

Hermione sat glumly on a plastic seat on the train headed home. Holding her head in a hand, she thought about her summer. She'd spent the entire two months fantasizing about Kensington Academy, about how well she'd fit in there and about leaving her old school behind her. And the stuffy, snobby officials had rejected her, for "undisclosed reasons!" Hermione decided that when she got home she would burn all the files, essays and information that she was going to bring to Kensington. For the remainder of the train ride, she was slightly cheered.

She signaled a taxi-cab after getting off the train. The driver, a middle-aged man with slightly graying hair, looked at her curiously but didn't query about the reasons for an eleven-year-old alone in the city. As they drove through Hermione's neighborhood, she couldn't help but groan at the pubic school they were passing – the one Hermione would inevitably have to go to.

The cabby must have heard her, because he asked lightly, "Don't want to go back to school, huh?"

Hermione looked up, surprised. "Actually, it's not school that bothers me- well, yes it is, but even more so it's…

"It's that you don't fit in. You feel like you're meant for something completely different." the cabby answered her statement for her.

"That's exactly it! Are you a psychic or something?" Hermione asked, amazed. The man laughed.

"Something like that," he replied. Hermione pressed further but he would say no more.

The taxi arrived at Hermione's house. She got out and handed a twenty-pound note to the driver through the passenger's seat window. As the cabby opened a drawer to get her change, Hermione noticed several strange coins, a few bronze, two silver and one that looked like it was made of gold. Her concentration on the currency was broken when the driver spoke.

"You'll figure out what I mean, lass," He said, tipping his hat to her. "I recognize one of our kind when I see one." And with a sly grin in response to Hermione's confused expression, he hit the gas and drove away, leaving Hermione to ponder his cryptic message.

"Cabbies are weird," she decided, and started home.


	2. Breakfast and Owls

Chapter summary: Hermione finds out she's a witch!

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the characters, the idea, blah blah blah.

Rating: G Again! Yay!

==

"Hermione! Are you awake, dear?" Judy Granger called up the stairs to her daughter's bedroom. It was just past 9.30 AM, and Hermione lay in bed, completely awake. She had been for the last hour. Her internal clock never failed to wake her up between 8.00 and 8.45, even on the weekends, which was unfortunate. Hermione had been thinking through her week. During the summer she had to keep track of the days, or else she got very confused. Time always got the best of her, she found, if she didn't keep up very carefully. Monday, she had gone clothes-shopping with her good friend Margaret. Tuesday she had done housework, to get a little extra pocket-money. Wednesday was when she got the letter from Kensington, and had spent almost all of Thursday getting rid of her schoolwork and research, with many distractions to ponder the cab-driver's strange conversation. Today was Friday, she told herself firmly, before remembering that her mother had called her and she needed to respond.

"Yes, Mum, I'm up! Is something wrong?" Hermione chided herself silently for asking a redundant question. From the tone of her mother's voice, something was obviously amiss.

"Well… Could you come down here, please?" Hermione came down the steps two at a time, her expression a mix of confusion and sleepiness. She frowned when she saw the concerned, almost angry looks on her parents' faces. Her mother stood at the end of the dining room table, with the mail in front of her. Her father sat, his breakfast cold and untouched.

"What's going on?" She asked tentatively. Her father looked up at her sternly.

"Did you apply to another school, and not tell us?" His voice was both quizzical and confused.

"No, Dad, of course not…Why?" Now Hermione was confused as well.

"We received this letter in the mail this morning," Judy said, picking up a strange-looking letter from the table. She handed it to Hermione, who turned it over to see that the old-fashioned wax seal, with some sort of fancy letter on it, had already been broken. The paper was thick, like parchment. There was, oddly, no stamp. The address was correct, right down to the spelling of Hermione's name, which was hard for most. Puzzled, Hermione withdrew the letter inside, which was of the same heavy material as the envelope. The heading of the letter was all Hermione had to read before she dropped the letter in shock.

"Do you know about this?" Judy asked sternly.

"If this is… what I think it is…" Hermione picked the letter up again and skimmed through it, thinking aloud. "It can't be… or can it?" Cautious, she looked to her parents, who both wore very confused expressions.

"Did you read it?" She asked, waving the letter in combined excitement and exasperation

"No, we were waiting for you," Judy said, giving Hermione an odd look. Phillip took the letter from her outstretched hand and read it thoroughly.

"Are you sure it's not a hoax or something? From kids at your school, maybe?" Phillip could just not get a hold of this.

"It could be, but, all the pieces seem to fit and it's just too—too real, and… the cabby! Of course!," Hermione broke into a grin as she finally figured out the meaning of the driver's words from two days ago.

"But-" said Judy.

"Mum, I've read about these schools. They're said to be just myths but it's real! You know the stories, about witches and wizards and how they have an entire secret world? Well, now we're a part of that! I'm a witch!" Hermione said it all in one breath, her grin widening as she spoke, if that was possible.

"Look!" Exclaimed Phillip, pointing out the window. Just outside, tapping on the glass with a talon, was an owl – the only owl any of them had ever seen in broad daylight. Hermione ran to the window and opened it, and the owl flew in and seated itself casually on the table. Hermione gestured to it excitingly.

"It says, 'We await your owl by no later than August 31,'" said Judy, having picked up the letter again.

"What's the name of the school? Pig-something?" asked Phillip.

"Hogwarts," said Judy and Hermione in unison. Hermione took a piece of paper and a pen and began to scrawl a quick note.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," she said to herself as she wrote. She then folded the paper twice and handed it to the owl, who took it in its beak and promptly flew out the open window.

"What did you write?" Asked Judy, no more than curious. Hermione shrugged.

"Just that I was happy to be accepted, but that I had no idea how to get there… I'm hoping they'll answer soon." Hermione was all aflutter with excitement now, because not only did she not have to return to her horrid public school, but the academy she was going to instead was one for learning magic. She skipped around the house to the kitchen, repeating in a singsong voice, "Dear Ms. Granger, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…"

==  


Hermione walked up the stairs slowly, deep in thought. For the past twenty-four hours, she could not take her mind off of the letter, the school, and the fact that she was a part of it. She opened her bedroom door to find an owl, though not the same one as the previous encounter's, perched on top of her computer, watching the screen saver upside-down with much interest. Hermione took another step inside and the owl looked up at her, its piercing eyes seeming to go right through her. It stuck out its right talon, onto which another piece of parchment was attached. Hermione crossed the room and untied the string which held the letter to the owl's claw, and unfolded it excitedly.

"Dear Miss Granger,

I am pleased that you seem so calm about your acceptance to Hogwarts. Many Muggle-born students don't understand as well as you have – I daresay you've done some research. To get your supplies (you must have seen the list attached to the acceptance letter) you must go to the Leaky Cauldron on 3rd street of London. Tell the bartender, Tom, your business and he will help you. Attached is your train ticket, it has all the details you need. Don't be late!

> > > Best Wishes,

> > > > Minerva McGonagall

> > > > Deputy Headmistress

Except the train ticket wasn't exactly 'attached' – it fell off the paper and Hermione had to make a swooping backward-hand catch to retrieve it. She read its contents, and it seemed like a normal train ticket except for one thing – it read "Platform 9 ¾," which had to be either a mistake or magic. _Magic_, Hermione thought, _how strange it is to finally accept it as something real._ She looked up from the letter and saw that the owl, still present, was now tapping curiously at the keys on the keyboard with it's claws, and watching the screen, which had a word processor open, fill up with letters. It looked fascinated.

"I suppose there are no computers in the magic world, are there?" She asked, laughing.

==

A/N: Did you catch it? I stuck a statement in that hints to something about Hermione in later years.. 15 points for whoever can get it (: Please remember to review, even just to say that you read it!


	3. Pubs and Wands

**Chapter Summary:** Diagon Alley! Squee!

**Rating:** Once again, just G

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own the characters or the setting or the whole darn thing. Besides, you wouldn't want to sue me anyway. All I've got is this bag of dirt – It's not much, but it's good for potting flowers.

**And also** – in this chapter there was one passage that I copied almost completely from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. But it's dialogue, and I think it's something that would be repeated. I also decided to use the description of Hermione's wand as it is in the movies, because there was no description given in the books.

**A/N:** Thanks to Red Roses2 for reviewing (and giving me a good giggle), and Artemis Moonsong, and Princess-Kathleen-The-Great for coming back. And 15 points to hyparly4suger, for getting the foreshadowing about time. Many thanks, and tell your friends! Please review!

==

Hermione had, with only a little difficulty, found her way to the Leaky Cauldron pub. It looked severely out of place between a large record store and an equally large book shop – Hermione had to consciously stop herself from going into the book store. She went up to the door and raised her hand to knock, but then reconsidered and opened the door slowly.

Noise filled Hermione's ears as she stepped into the pub. As her eyes got used to the dim light, a small voice in the back of her head remarked that the noise and smells weren't very different from a regular pub's. But as soon as Hermione could see her surroundings, she realized just how different this place was.

The architecture of the place seemed very old, but what really surprised Hermione were the people sitting at the bar or at small tables throughout the room. She had not even thought about expecting people of the wizarding world to dress differently – but here they were, wearing robes of all sorts of different colors. Men and women of all ages sat drinking and talking. The bartender was a bald, somewhat hunched man. As Hermione approached the bar he smiled at her, and Hermione was immediately glad that she had persuaded her parents to let her come here alone – the bartender's obvious lack of teeth would have sent one or both of her parents into shock.

"Excuse me," Hermione began quietly, "I got a letter, from a school named-" The bartender cut her off by finishing her sentence.

"Hogwarts, eh? You must be a Muggle-born, you poor thing, confused as a grindylow in a desert… I'm Tom, remember that in case you need anything. Come out to the back and I'll get you through to Diagon Alley."

Before Hermione had time to ask what a grindylow was, and furthermore what a Muggle was, she was being herded out a door she hadn't noticed before. As Tom opened the door, Hermione caught her breath, expecting to see a street full of magic shops and wizards and the like. She was severely disappointed when faced with nothing but an old brick wall.

"What… where is it?" She asked, wondering if this is where her adventure came to an end. Tom must have seen her crestfallen expression because he laughed good-heartedly.

"Don't worry, lass, there's more than meets the eye here. That's somethin' you'll learn, bein' a part of the wizarding world now, that you can't always believe what you see." He pulled out a wand – _a magic wand, _Hermione realized – from his robes and counted off a series of bricks before tapping one three times with his wand. Suddenly an archway was opening, and here was the magical street that Hermione had been so excited to see.

Hermione found herself astounded by the sights. More wizards and witches in robes, doing shopping in stores that seemed to sell things like Hermione had never seen before. Hermione also noticed children, most wearing clothing like hers – a small relief for the suddenly very tense girl.

==

Following Tom's directions exactly, Hermione made her way to a bank called Gringotts to exchange her money for wizard money. The shock at seeing goblins for the first time in real life was almost as powerful as the surprise to find the coins she received to be the same ones she had seen in the strange cabby's car. Suddenly everything clicked for her, and she forgot where she was and said aloud, "He was a wizard!" The goblin exchanging her money gave her a suspicious look and she rapidly turned red.

Back on the street, Hermione quickly figured out that "Muggles" were people who were not wizards or witches. _Like my parents,_ she thought suddenly. She bought her robes, a cauldron, and all her other equipment, still trying to take in everything all at the same time.

She arrived at a store called Flourish and Blotts and nearly lost her balance from the excitement. A bookstore, with everything in it relating to magic! Hermione figured she had died and gone to heaven. She quickly found all the books on the list, and grabbed a thick volume titled _Hogwarts: A History_ to find out more about the school she would be attending soon. After buying those books, she realized she had enough money left for a few more, so she grabbed a couple history books. She was keen to go into the school knowing at least a small amount about the wizarding world, so that she wouldn't seem a complete fool.

She had left the best for last, she knew. The gold lettering over the door to Hermione's last destination told her that this was where to buy her wand. As a small girl she had waved around sticks with plastic stars on the end, pretending to be a magical princess, but never had she actually thought of really owning a wand. She went inside and as soon as the door closed behind her, the noise from the street was shut out, making for an eerie silence. She looked around for someone, and finally spotted an old, whispery-looking man in the back who she assumed was Mr. Ollivander.

"Excuse me," Hermione said for what felt like the millionth time that day. "Mr. Ollivander?"

He turned suddenly and his eyes shone like a cat's in the darkness. Hermione thought they were just catching the light, but Mr. Ollivander moved towards her and the eerie silver in his eyes remained.

"Hello," he said quietly. "Who might you be?"

"I'm, um, Hermione Granger, sir, I've just come to buy a wand- well of course, I mean, this is a wand shop, so why else would I be here-" For the first time in a long while, Hermione was tripping over her words. "What I meant was, I'm going to Hogwarts, it's a school for- well of course you'd already know-" She stopped short as the old man came closer to her.

"Your wand hand, please," He said shortly. Hermione figured he meant her dominant hand, so she stuck out her right hand and Mr. Ollivander began taking various measurements down her arm, her legs, around her waist and head. Presently he stepped away and the measuring tape continued moving across her. Mr. Ollivander interrupted her thoughts.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Ms. Granger. We use unicorn haris, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's – or witch's – wand."

Hermione was fascinated. She wished she could have been writing down all these knew things, but the measuring tape was currently winding itself between her fingers. Presently it stopped and fell on a table, curled perfectly into a spiral. Mr. Ollivander, who had been going through the huge stacks of small, long boxes on the shelves, came back to the front of the store with a box. It was about the same length as a shoebox, but thinner – Hermione was excited to think that it held a wand. Mr. Ollivander opened the box and brought out a long, dark wand.

"Oak, this one, 12 inches, with a phoenix feather in it – state of the art, I should say." He handed it to Hermione and motioned for her to try it. She waved it in a small circle and nothing happened. She tried again, swiping it across – still nothing. Mr. Ollivander took it back.

"That's all right, it takes a few tries for most people," He said as he shuffled back to the shelves. He brought out another box, identical to the last. But when he opened the box Hermione could see that the wand inside was very different from the oak one.

"This looks like maple.. but the color is so light..." Hermione wondered if her small knowledge of trees was helping her out or tricking her

"It is maple – silver maple. A rare one, I might say. 11 inches with a dragon heartstring. Go on, try it!" Hermione took the wand from the box and looked at it carefully. It had an inlaid carving, of a vine of some sort, winding up the wand. She waved it slowly and, to her surprise and delight, green sparks flew out of the tip like a miniature firecracker.

"Oh, good!" Mr. Ollivander seemed nearly ecstatic. Hermione smiled as she realized this would very soon be her wand. She realized she had no idea how much it would cost and was hopeful that it wasn't more than she had already exchanged. She figured it would be a fair amount of – galleons, she reminded herself. Mr. Ollivander told her the cost and she sighed with relief because she had no more than three sickles more than his price.

She walked out of the store with the wand in its box in her left hand, a large cauldron in her right, and bags full of all sorts of other strange things. Making her way back to the Leaky Cauldron, she was almost overcome with excitement as she imagined the year – and the life – ahead of her.


End file.
